


Stadium Kid

by EclecticAce



Series: The MFU (movie verse)/NHL crossover [3]
Category: Hockey RPF, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 19:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticAce/pseuds/EclecticAce
Summary: Takes place before "All Eyes on the 2018 NHL Award". All Natalie wanted to do was Ref the Stadium Series in March...instead, she got pregnant.





	Stadium Kid

**Author's Note:**

> This series is mostly just a writers block cure/attempted cure. Two of my many favourite passions mixed together. It's lovely!
> 
> *Not beta-ed all mistakes my own*

They were lying in bed, after both a New Years Eve wing game at home and the first time they had managed to have sex in nearly three weeks due to conflicting schedules and life in general, when Natalie rolled into Illyas side and threw her arm across his torso as he wrapped his arm further around her side in order to draw her closer. She smiled up at him and he winked down at her and kissed her forehead. 

Her eyes fluttered as she lowered her face again and kissed his chest before she laid her head against it and sighed. 

Silence for a bit and then, “so, I think I’m pregnant.” 

Natalie stayed against Illya’s chest just long enough to feel his heartbeat spike before he rolled away from their embrace, sat up and stared down at her. All in the same breath. 

“Kакие?! (What?!)”

As she rolled her eyes skyward, Natalie swore she probably pulled something. She settled her weight on her bent arm, and then leveled the Russian with an unimpressed look. “Your brains are rattled, not your ears. You heard me.” 

“You think you’re pregnant.” 

Natalie nodded.

“You think you’re pregnant. How come you do not know?”

She shrugged with her unweighted shoulder. “Too many ears.”

Ilya blinked and shook his head. “I do not understand.”

“I’m reffing the Stadium Series in March, Illya. I want to ref the Stadium Series in March, Illya.”  
His heartbeat picked up again as everything clicked. “But you’re pregnant.”

“And therein lays the whole problem.”  
The Russian was silent for a tick and then he pursed his lips and shook his head twice. “No.” 

“No?!” She laughed, pushing herself into a sitting position, the sheet that’d covered her now lay piled in her lap. “What do you mean no? No to what?”  
Illya just stared at her with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Oh my god,” her palm hit her forehead hard enough to make a sound. “You’re exactly why I don’t want to tell anyone.”  
His chest puffed a bit in indignation. “Why am I –“

“Your reaction! It’s going to be the same for everyone. I can’t handle that. I don’t want to handle that.” She pulled the sheet up again to cover her chest. “At least not until after the game.”

“You would put baby’s life in danger for hockey.”

“I don’t know if I’m even pregnant, Illya!”

His eyelids relaxed a bit more. “You know your body. If you say you are pregnant. You are pregnant.”

“And any other time I would thank you for the vote of confidence,” Natalie nodded, smiling for a split second before it fell away. “But not right now. I have a job to do and I want to do it. I want the baby too, but I don’t want it getting in the way of-“

“A baby does not get in the way of anything.” Illya cut her off, “a baby does not do anything but exist for others to care for.”

Her heart twisted, in a good way, at Illya’s statement, but her head won out and her stomach burned. “Look, I know you know how important this is to me. I may not get another chance-“

“If I was injured and could not play in Stadium Series, would you be upset with me if I still wanted to play in it? Would you think it was my fault?”

She paused. “Of course not. You were injured; it’s not your fault you can’t play in it.”

“So why do you think it’s your fault you can’t play in it?”

“That’s not-“she paused again and folded her leg under the comforter. “Ok, so maybe I do. But this is different. This is my fault. I can’t let something I did stand in the way.”

“How is this only your fault? It does take two parties, does it not?”

“Illya.” Natalie reached out with one hand to grasp his. “Prior to meeting you I had an IUD, was on birth control and never had sex without a condom.” She squeezed it. “My last IUD expired in August, I was supposed to go in to get another one put in but I never did. I just figured we’d be alright with the traditional stuff. I mean, hell,” she laughed, raising her hand to meet his chin. She rubbed his jawline with her thumb, “we probably have about as much sex married as I did before I knew you – meaning not very damn much.” 

She smiled when Illya finally managed a smile and then sighed affectionately when his giant hand came to cover hers. “I should have been more careful. I should have gone in, in August. - it is my fault I ca-shouldn’t,” she quickly corrected herself, “I shouldn’t play in March.” 

Illya turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. “I do not like your plan.” He looked to her quickly and cut her off just before she opened her mouth to speak. “But at least I will be there to watch you.” 

“I won’t say anything if you don’t.” She quipped. 

Illya just stared at her, still holding his hand over his and just sighed and kissed her palm again. “I am quite sure you will be the one to kill me, Natalie.”

“Mm,” she smirked, leaning towards him for a kiss. “You love every minute of it too.” 

The Russian only smirked at that and gently pushed her hand from his face. “I must go get a shower, mama will want to Skype soon. She will know I was up to no good and be not pleased.” 

Natalie leaned back, dragged the comforter back up to cover her chest and just watched him appreciatively as he headed toward the dresser (a Predator like grin appearing on her face when he bent over and flashed his perfectly pale, perfectly pert ass at her) and then turn toward the bathroom and shut the door. Even then, she was hard pressed to look away. 

Illya Kuryakin was it for her. Of that she was sure. He was just as beautiful naked as he was clothed. He was well formed, in physique, posture, manners and health. 

“Fuck,” she sighed, flopping back down, “our kid is gonna be gorgeous.”  
-

On the 9th of January, while in a Colorado hotel room’s tub after a Wild vs. Avalanche game Natalie texted Illya the results of the Clear Blue she’d done prior to the game. “7 weeks.” 

The reply was almost instantaneous. “Pozdravleniya”. Followed by 3 balloon Emojis and then a GIF from Modern Family with Claire and Gloria, from the episode where Gloria told Claire she was pregnant which said, “You’re gonna get fat!” 

The back of her head hit the wall hard as she threw her head back and laughed out loud. “You asshole,” she chuckled before looking back at her phone and typing back, “your fault.”

Another instantaneous text followed that simply said, “Yup.” 

That one. That one made her swoon. She still called him an asshole - because he was, but in a much nicer voice.  
-  
In the month of January Natalie worked 10 games, not one in Toronto and Illya racked up 53 penalty minutes in 11 games, 7 at home. Both came out unscathed. If a little sorer. 

During one of her infrequent stints at home Natalie even managed to get to a doctor, between her required monthly visits, to find out when exactly her due date was. She was fine knowing it was sometime in July. Illya on the other hand, with Russian precision colouring everything he did and experienced, he wanted to know the exact date – which was the reason she’d gone for such an asinine appointment. 

He could never say she didn’t do anything for him. 

But it was still kind of nice. July 29th. Navy Day in Russia that year. 

As she walked down Bay towards the Eaton’s Centre where’d she’d promised to meet Illya for lunch at the Duke of Richmond’s after his practice. Natalie patted her stomach gently, “the Russian Wonder is getting his way again, hey kid?”  
-  
February started much like January had, with nary a day together for the first week and then 5 whole luxurious days that was Toronto’s by-week, what made it extra special was the fact that Natalie wasn’t scheduled to work either. However, their plan, or the plan that Natalie came up with and Illya begrudgingly agreed to, came to a crashing end the 3rd week of February. Illya had just sat down in his locker, wiping the towel across his head after his shower when Babcock almost literally stormed into the locker room. They locked eyes as soon as Illya raised his head and the older man stomped over to him, grabbed his arm and literally pulled him to his feet with one hand.

“Sir?” he choked, dropping the towel as he was forced toward the door. He really did not like the fact that he was both, being manhandled by a shorter older man with ease and he was naked all except for a navy-blue towel wrapped around his waist. 

“My office now, Kuraykin.”  
-  
In Babcock’s office, on his larger than usual computer screen was Alexander Waverly, the Commissioner. Which only meant one. He sat hard in the chair nearest the door and looked quickly to Babcock again before settling his attention on the screen. 

“Sir,” he nodded, self consciously closing his legs and folding his hands in his lap to weigh down the towel a bit more to give himself a bit more coverage. 

“First of all, I find myself needing to make you aware of an incident Natalie Solo has had this evening.” He quickly continued, “she’s currently being put through concussion protocol.” 

Illya’s head bowed as his throat began working overtime just to push the lump back down again to take a breath. 

Babcock, who’d taken to leaning against the wall furthest from him while he was torn a new one by their boss, quickly stepped forward and put a hand to his shoulder. “Breath, Illya.” 

He nodded hard. “Is she alright, sir?”

“As rain, Mr. Kuraykin.” Waverly’s British slang sometimes went over his head, but right now it was obvious what he meant. “As is the child.”  
His shoulders folded and his hands came to his face and pulled. “She asked me to keep silent because she wished to work the Stadium Series next month.” 

"Effective immediately, Mr. Kuryakin, Natalie Solo is on leave for the remainder of the year and you will be given a suspension of 2 games."

"2 games?!" Illya sputtered, "but I didn't do anything-" "That's precisely why you're getting suspended Mr. Kuryakin, you don't do a thing to make the league aware of your wife's state. You were an accomplice to her plan. Therefore, you too must be given some sort of punishment." Illya watched Waverly's eyes search out Babcock, "Mr. Babcock, would you make Mr. Shanahan aware of my ruling?"

He looked to his coach as he nodded, "will do."

"Many thanks." Waverly nodded in return and then looked to Illya. "I am incredibly disappointed in you both. Good bye."

And just like that, the Skype video conversation window shut off and Illya was left staring at the Skype home screen, unblinking. 

He didn't know how long he'd been staring at the screen before Babcock approached him, moving quickly from his stance against the wall and put a hand to his shoulder again and squeezed. "Go home, Illya, talk with your wife - see what's up, where your head is at and then come back after everything is done and talk to me, alright?" Illya nodded numbly. 

He dropped his head to his hands, leaned forward and let his elbows rests on his knees and sighed.

Babcock squeezed his shoulder again and then patted it. "Regardless of everything to do with work, Illya, you've a baby coming. Focus on that."  
-  
Illya had just gotten out of the shower, after his normal jog around along the Lakeshore when he heard a key turn the lock to the front door. He moved quickly toward their bed where he'd thrown his clothes beforehand and threw them on. 

By the time he got through to the living room Natalie was there, sitting hunched over with her hands over her face, on the middle cushion of the couch, with her shoes and jacket still on and the wheeled suit case laying on its side near the door. She looked up in a hurry when she heard movement and gave Illya a perfect view of her flushed tear stained face and red rimmed eyes. 

He took a slow step towards her, his eyes going soft almost immediately at the sight. "Hi." 

Natalie put her hands to her face again and dragged them down her cheeks to wipe away the tears. "The baby is fine, if you're wondering."

Without missing a beat he answered, "I was," and then covered the rest of the space between them and sat down carefully beside her and turned his body toward her. "But I also worry about you. Do you have concussion?"

She shook her head vigorously, but kept her attention downward towards her knees. "Seguin got his elbow up coming around to fight in the corner with Jumbo during the last 4 minutes of the second and then they both moved into me and knocked me down too fast for me to get my arms up to stop myself." 

His temper peaked at the sound of Seguin's name and he had to quickly shove his hand under his leg and dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand to keep from snapping. 

Her hand quickly found his. "He apologised after, Illya. They both did. It's alright."

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. Leery of his voice just yet.

Silence fell between the couple for almost a full five minutes before Natalie spoke up, now leaning all the way back against the couch, with her head facing the ceiling and a hand pressed against her forehead. “I just remember watching Thorton come in, I felt Seguin’s elbow before I saw him,” she tapped her left cheek with her knuckles. “Moved around them to try to keep sight of the puck and then suddenly I’m on the ground.” She popped her head up quickly and looked to Illya. “And you know what my first thought was?” She set her head back down before he could answer. “Not about the baby or if I was hurt, but “Well, the Stadium Series is fucked,” Her laugh was humourless and rough as she raised her head again and looked to him, “what kind of person thinks that?” 

“Natalie,” Illya sighed, shifting ever so slightly in his seat so his whole upper body faced her now. “You mustn’t-“ 

“I mean, I’m pregnant. My first thought should have been about the baby. The damage I may have caused to the baby – my first thought was about a fucking hockey game!” Silence again and then the sound of crying, Natalie’s forehand now pressed firmly against her mouth to lessen the sound. 

Illya could only stare for a few seconds, completely unaccustomed to his wife in tears. She was usually the one to calm him down. Never vice versa. “You mustn’t blame yourself like you are, Natalie. Everyone sometimes thinks of silly things instead of what they probably should.” 

She shook her head petulantly. “Not mothers.”

He smiled then, finally, and reached around the back of the couch to wrap around her, slid his arm under her head to her shoulders and drew her into him. She slid against him without an ounce of resistance and settled her head against his shoulder. He kissed her crown. “Even mothers, --. It is human nature.”

Natalie rolled her head until her cheek touched his shoulder and just sighed, hiccupping for a bit longer. Hiccupping being an odd side effect she suffered after a crying jag. A woman he dated in New York City during his time on the Rangers once had the same thing.  
-  
That Saturday, the first Saturday both had had off during the winter since they started dating, just as they were settling down to watch the Leafs take on the Habs, there was a knock at the door. 

Natalie pressed her eye against the peep hole and jumped back. She turned her face away for a second and shook her head before looking again. “What the-“

“What is happening?” Illya asked, coming towards her, his shoulders just a little sharper, his stride just a little longer – he was going into protective mode. “What is wrong?”

She looked to him quickly when she felt his presences around her and told him, “look in there and tell me what you see.”  
So, he did. Only to jump back, in much the same way she had a couple minutes ago. 

“I know, right?” 

Just before Illya opened his mouth to speak again a muffled British voice from behind the door cut him off. “It’s me, Ms. Solo. Do open up.”

Illya, who had his hand on the door handle anyway, quickly pulled it open. Only to come face to face with quite possibly the largest teddy bear he’d ever seen in his life. 

“Uh oh,” Natalie laughed, grabbing for one of the bear’s massive paws to drag it into the apartment. “Waverly’s been to Costco.” 

The Russian’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “This is from Costco?!”

The older British man looked to the Russian sheepishly and ran and through his hair before pushing his glasses up his nose with his pointer. “I’m afraid I must use this as a guarantee, Mr. Kuryakin.”

Natalie paused her work, which now included smacking the head till it flattened a bit, so she could fit it through the door, when Waverly spoke. “A guarantee for what?”

“A guarantee either of you will never play with such an important secret again.” 

Illya’s cheeks reddened as his head bowed, “I betrayed your trust, sir.”

Natalie, however, just put a hand to her hip. “I promise not to get pregnant any year there’s a chance Illya’s going to play an ouitdoor game, ever again, how’s that?” 

“Ever the rebel, Ms. Solo,” Waverly feigned disappointment. “Though I feel that’s the best I’m going to get so I may as well accept it.”

Illya looked to Natalie and then to Mr. Waverly. He would never understand the relationship his wife had with the commissioner. But he would never object to it. He’d always figured they wouldn’t have created such a relationship if they hadn’t needed each other in someway when they’d first met. 

“Why don’t you and I get this gargantuan mess of stuffing into your flat, Mr. Kuryakin and Ms. Solo can start the kettle?”  
-  
March 3rd  
Annapolis Maryland  
Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium

"You are sure you're alright?" Natalie managed to maintain eye contact with Illya, even after being asked the same question for the 5th time in an hour and a half. Mother hen, thy name was Kuryakin. 

"Illya, honestly, babe," she smirked, standing back. She was covered from head-to-toe with her tri-coloured CANADA toque covered over by the hood of her her knee length Canada Goose parka (complete with "Goose Bump" extension panel over her stomach to make sure both ends of her parka came together. Unfortunately, she had gotten fat. Really quickly - too quickly for her liking, if she was truthful), high top fur lined winter boots, a pair of gloves on underneath her tri-coloured CANADA mitts, and her face at least 70% covered by the ridiculous double wide (extra heavy) scarf April had sent her specifically for coming to Annapolis. "I'm good, trust me." She came back towards him and kissed his wind bitten cheek, "I've even got long underwear on."

At that Illya pulled his face away, smirked down at her as he threw his arm around her and winked, "and they say romance is dead."

She laughed, letting her head rest against his forearm for a bit. Her mitted hand came up to cradle his jaw for a second as she let herself take in everything about his face. He had a new freckle by his left eye, probably from all the reflected sun he'd taken in thanks to all the out door practices Babcock had put them through in preparation for this one. But it was ok. She liked freckles. Especially on him. She liked anything on him. 

And off him. 

Illya laughed as he watched her stare at him. "На что ты смотришь? (What are you looking at?)" 

A smile slowly started to stretch across Natalie's face. "My son's father."

The smile grew into a grin when she watched in real time, the realisation sink in. First his eyes widened, then his pupils dilated, then he paled to almost the same colour as the jersey he wore before finally his cheeks flushed and unbridled excitement exploded in his eyes. "You know?!"

Natalie nodded right before moving to finally stand straight up again. "I found out the day before we came here. That last appoint-" whatever she was going to say was abruptly cut off by an ecstatic Russian's lips pressing almost painfully against hers. When he finally pulled back she stumbled a step before catching herself again. 

"Well, you're pleased, aren't you?" she laughed, shaking her head a bit to get her thoughts back in order after the kiss. Natalie looked back up at him (6'4" normally, probably closer to 6'7" now). "Your son was a bit of a show off, that's how we found out." 

"Definitely get it from his Mama. Not the Russian way to show off for camera." 

Natalie's eyes finally did roll at that. "You keep telling yourself that, Cowboy. Maybe one day I'll believe it." 

The 15-minute warning sounded which told everyone making rounds on the ice that they had 15 more minutes before they had to return to the dressing room before the start of the game. "Hey," she pulled on his hand to make him look at her once more, "go get 'em, alright? Don't play for penalties - make their jobs boring, for me and the kid, alright?"  
They shared another quick kiss before Illya pulled away again, rubbed his gloved hand over her stomach and then winked and skated towards his line mates against the boards on the other side of the ice. 

She looked away long enough to catch Babcock's eyes, he took winked and offered her a gentle smile and then mouthed the words, "Congrats." She nodded in reply and then turned and headed back toward her allotted seat was with all the other girlfriends and wives. 

They lost the game 5-2. with none other than Ovechkin sealing the deal by scoring the game winning goal which was also his 40th of the season. 

And there had been several points during the game where Natalie would have called both teams for violations, but all-in-all it was a great game. Even if she had never expected to be a spectator.

Just as she moved to get up, long after most of the people in her section had left, something began popping and crackling in her stomach. Making her freeze for a minute in abject terror and confusion. She'd stuck to tea the whole game, no carbon diox-it happened again, but this time whatever it was only popped and crackled a couple times before it transformed into the oddest fluttery sensation that spread across her stomach like a belt, something she'd never experienced.

It was then and only then that she realised what it was. 

She gracelessly fell back into the folding chair, put her mitted hand to her stomach and laughed ever so quietly, "well, kid, nice of you to finally show up."  
\--  
Yuri Illyanovich Kuryakin was born 4 months later. Smack dab in the middle of the hottest heatwave of the summer, a day late, , and weighing in at an absolutely hefty 12 pounds 17 ounces.


End file.
